


Disassemble

by BetweenTheClouds



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Drug Use, Pining Kozume Kenma, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenTheClouds/pseuds/BetweenTheClouds
Summary: Kenma had to know what the envelope contained. He ran his finger along the flap. It wasn’t sealed. Before he chickened out, Kenma opened the envelope and took out the contents. They were Polaroids.Kuroo was sucking some old guy’s dick.As if possessed, Kenma flipped to the next picture. In this one, Kuroo was dressed in just his boxers, giving another old guy a lap dance. Another pair of hands grabbed onto his waist, the body out of frame.Alternatively:Trauma (as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary): A deeply distressing or disturbing experience. Origin: Greek word meaning ‘wound’ from the late 17th century.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

Every game, no matter how difficult and complicated, has rules. As long as you carefully study the rules and learn to play within the parameters, victory was guaranteed. It was a matter of when, not if. 

That’s what drew Kenma to them. Clear, consistent rules were necessary to winning. This was a concept he had understood since he was five years old and first held a controller in his hands. His skill was standing back and analyzing before making his move. The longer he spent gathering information, the more lethal his move became. 

The screen went white as the boss fight ended. Kenma won, just barely. He let out a breath and leaned his head against the couch cushions. His eyes closed, he listened to his heartbeat. It looked like he got more worked up than he thought. 

Losing a game wasn’t something that took up much space in his mind. Whether it took ten minutes or ten years, all he needed to do was disassemble it piece by piece and examine each piece up close. 

Kenma opened his eyes. His eyes locked on the picture on the wall opposite him. In it, Kuroo was standing with his parents at his high school graduation. His smile was so big and so stupidly goofy. Kenma couldn’t help but give it a small, lopsided smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that smile. Sure, he had seen plenty of Kuroo’s smiles over the past few years. But never any quite that big or quite that bright. 

He wished he could disassemble Kuroo’s brain and examine each piece up close. 

Maybe then he would find the crack and be able to fix it. 

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating on the floor beside him. His phone was always set to vibrate, or else he would have thrown it out the window ages ago. These days, it was usually related to his streaming channel. 

Peeking at the screen, he let another breath of relief. It was Kuroo. Picking it up, he accepted the call and gave Kuroo a quiet greeting. 

“Hey, looks like I’m going to be a bit late. Practice just ended, and I still need to print off my paper at the library for tomorrow’s class. Do you want me to pick up dinner on my way home?” Kuroo sounded out of breath. Kenma closed his eyes again and basked in the domesticity of his last sentence.

No, they had _rules_. Kenma shook his head to snap out of it. “Okay,” he agreed. “How long will you be?”

“Uh, probably another 40 minutes. Is that okay?”

Kenma stared down at his toes as he thought about how to answer. “That’s fine,” he replied after a pause. “But is it okay for me to just wait here alone? Bokuto left about half an hour ago, and I’ve just been playing games since then.” 

The question sounded foreign coming out of his mouth. Two and a half years ago, the very thought of it would have been preposterous. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kuroo said, laughing. His voice sounded strange. “You’ve always been like family. When have you ever had to ask?”

 _Since you shut me out and rejected me_ , Kenma wanted to reply. He didn’t. 

“If you’re bringing food back, bring apple pie,” he said instead. 

Kuroo laughed again, sounding more genuine this time. “Do you even have to ask?”

After hanging up, Kenma resumed his game. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

But his concentration was off now. He kept getting killed by henchmen who weren’t even that difficult. The timing of his dodges and attacks were all wrong. Still, he continued to play because it was better than thinking about his life.

Unlike games, real life didn’t seem to have a point to it, or an actual endgame to strive towards. Rules were as fickle as the people who created them. It was easy to lose track of your goal, and it seemed to be specifically designed to kick you when you’re down. 

When Kenma was 18, he learned a very important lesson: In real life, the goal isn't to win. It’s to not lose. 

Luckily, that’s where rules came in. They certainly weren’t as effective as they were in games, but they helped Kenma navigate life just a little easier. 

Even as far back as kindergarten, Kenma created rules to make his relationships with other people smoother. 

Never be the first one to reach for a toy or snack. It might cause a fight.

Don’t pull the girls’ shiny pink raincoat hoods. They might cry.

Don’t stand out too much. People might try to start a conversation.

Breaking those rules will just cause unnecessary problems. Kenma stuck to those rules religiously for years, creating a couple others along the way. 

When he met the cripplingly shy boy next door, the same rules applied. Until that boy broke down his barriers one by one, and they didn’t anymore.

Kuroo Tetsurou was Kenma’s one exception throughout most of his life. With Kuroo, he didn’t need rules because Kuroo wasn’t something he could lose.

It turned out Kuroo was surprisingly easy to lose. Kenma was holding on for dear life, but he could still feel Kuroo slipping through his fingers.

Kuroo and Bokuto moved into this apartment at the beginning of their second year of university, which was over a year ago now. But Kenma hadn’t seen that much of it until recently. If he tried to pinpoint the moment the distance between them increased, he guessed it was a few months after Kuroo moved away for university.

It was painful to be separated from Kuroo, but they agreed to call once a week. And they texted every day. Besides, it was only an hour and a half away by train. At first, Kuroo would text Kenma all about his classes and new volleyball team, and he would send far too many pictures of cats in his new neighborhood. And Kenma would try to ignore the way his heart sped up every time his phone vibrated. 

His new classes were difficult to balance with volleyball practice and a brand new social life, but Kuroo seemed happy. He appeared to be eating well, and he had Bokuto by his side for every step of his new journey. Kenma felt confident that Kuroo would be just fine.

Kuroo’s absence left a small, aching spot in Kenma’s chest. Without his best by his side every day, he finally had time to figure out exactly what he felt for Kuroo. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to think about it. Whatever he felt for Kuroo was complicated, and complications should be avoided at all costs. So he threw himself into school and volleyball practice with a vigor he never possessed before, just to avoid thinking about it. He even started a YouTube channel and started posting videos and live streams of playing games. He never expected it to gain any traction, but his subscriber list increased at an alarming rate. 

But the truth remained in his chest, making its presence known through every small, soft smile Kenma gave his screen after receiving a text from Kuroo. It only grew bigger on the rare occasions they got to video chat. Kuroo liked to call after volleyball practice. His messy hair, still wet from his shower, would stick to his forehead in a way that made Kenma want to reach out and brush it off his skin. His cheeks would be flushed, and he would give Kenma a sleepy, but accomplished grin when he spoke. His eyes would start to close halfway through the call, and Kenma would freeze at how serene he looked. 

He looked forward to the moments when Kuroo would start to fall asleep. It allowed him to stare for far longer than what was deemed acceptable for friends. 

As adept as Kenma was at analyzing other people’s intentions and motivations, it took him approximately five of these “staring at half-asleep Kuroo” sessions to realize the truth that had been screaming at him all this time. 

He was in love with Kuroo. _Fuck_.

At least he finally had a name for the small, aching spot buried in his chest: longing.

But he never really got the chance to bask in his newly discovered feelings. Not long after his epiphany, Kuroo’s texts and calls dropped off rapidly, until he ceased all communication. Kenma couldn’t get through to him, and he only answered the most basic welfare checks from his family. 

Kenma called Bokuto to find out what was going on with Kuroo. Bokuto didn’t seem to know much, but he admitted he was worried about Kuroo too. He promised to keep an eye on him and keep Kenma updated. It wasn’t nearly enough, but Kenma agreed to it. It was better than nothing. And nothing was what he received from Kuroo for a long time.

When it came time to enroll in university, Kenma happened to choose one that was just a 15 minute train ride from Kuroo’s. It was just a coincidence, he told himself. But even in his deepest stage of denial, he knew better. He wasn’t even sure if he and Kuroo were even friends anymore, since they hadn’t spoken a word to each other in over six months. 

Still, he texted Kuroo when he moved to his city. He wasn’t expecting a response, not really. But when Kuroo texted him back, over a week later, Kenma jumped at the opportunity to reunite with his best friend. 

In a strange role reversal, Kenma was the one to initiate all their conversations. Even more strange, they didn’t meet in person until Kenma had been there for two weeks. When Kenma finally saw Kuroo in person again, Kuroo greeted him warmly and pulled him into a hug. He acted as if he didn’t ignore Kenma for half a year, and Kenma didn’t push. 

As much as Kenma wanted to believe they had fallen back into their old routine as if no time had passed, there was a strange distance between them. Kenma wondered if Kuroo had discovered his crush on him. 

Still, their friendship carried on, with the stability of a newborn fawn taking its first steps. Kenma decided not to address the cracks in their relationship, and Kuroo pretended there weren’t any. Until the party Kuroo and Bokuto threw at their apartment not long after the new school year began. 

_Surveying the people chattering loudly around him, Kenma wondered why he even came. Being surrounded by people he didn’t know stressed him out, and Kuroo was nowhere to be found. A figure came up next to him and playfully elbowed him in the side. Kenma buckled over._

_“You’re the definition of a wallflower right now,” Bokuto laughed. “Come on, why don’t you meet some people? Shinobu over there is in one of your classes, I think.”_

_Kenma gave him an impassive stare. “It’s like you don’t even know me,” he replied._

_Bokuto laughed harder. “Come on, have some of this! It’s liquid courage, you know. It helps you talk to people.” He handed Kenma a cup of coke. When Kenma sniffed it, he could tell it wasn’t just coke._

_“I guess one drink couldn’t hurt,” he muttered. He was getting tired stressing out over Kuroo’s whereabouts. He received a joyous slap on the back in response._

_After consuming more alcohol than was strictly necessary, Kenma was tapped on the shoulder. He looked up to see Kuroo standing in front of him, a grin on his face._

_“Come with me,” Kuroo announced, taking Kenma’s hand. Kenma flushed at the sudden contact, hiding his face behind his hair._

_Kuroo led him to his room and closed the door behind him. “What are you doing?” Kenma asked._

_“I haven’t been able to talk to you all evening,” Kuroo said, laughing. “Every time I tried to go over to you, I would get surrounded by classmates or the volleyball guys. And you looked like you were having a good time too. I was shocked.”_

_Startled, Kenma lifted his head up to stare at Kuroo. “You wanted to talk to me that much?” he asked. Considering Kuroo never sought Kenma out anymore, he didn’t think Kuroo put much thought into seeing him._

_Kuroo averted his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, yeah,” he said. “You’re the one I want to talk to the most.”_

_Kenma’s head buzzed softly, and he felt so airy. Maybe the alcohol was starting to kick in._

_He sat on Kuroo’s bed and kicked his legs in the air, feeling like he was a kid again. Kuroo sat beside him, and they talked about all sorts of things. Kenma filled him in on his new streaming hobby, and how he was starting to make money from it. Kuroo talked about his classes and this one professor who was a real hardass. It was the first time in ages that Kenma felt completely at ease with Kuroo._

_Bokuto was right; alcohol really is liquid courage. Everything was somehow funnier, especially Kuroo’s hair. Was it always this messy? “Shouyou was right, you are a rooster head,” he giggled, running his hand through Kuroo’s dark hair._

_Kuroo’s brow furrowed as he tried to straighten his rumpled locks.“How much have you had to drink?” he asked, peering at Kenma closely._

_“Bokuto only gave me a drink or two. Then somebody was giving out shots, and even Akaashi took one. And he never drinks. So it seemed like a good idea,” Kenma replied, trying to reach for Kuroo’s hair again._

_Kuroo immediately moved away, standing up and walking towards the door. “Okay, well, we should get back to the party. If you need a quiet place to lie down or whatever, you can stay here.” Kenma followed him to the door. As Kuroo’s hand touched the doorknob, Kenma tugged on his sleeve._

_“Can’t you stay with me for a few more minutes?” he asked quietly. His eyes searched Kuroo’s for an answer he couldn’t find. “Ever since I came here, you’ve been trying to put distance between us. I missed you, Kuro. I missed you so much when you went away for university, and I missed you when you stopped answering my calls or texts. I-I missed you so much it hurt.” Kenma’s eyes grew wide and pleading, and his voice rose in a strange pitch. “Did you miss me too?”_

_Swallowing hard, Kuroo nodded. His hand that was on the doorknob fell away. “Of course I missed you,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “I thought about you every day, even when I tried my damned hardest not to.”_

_“Me too,” Kenma whispered. His cheeks were flushed with more than just alcohol, and he gazed up at Kuroo with wide, sparkling eyes. “Every single day.” His lips parted slightly as he stared up at his best friend. He breathed out_ Kuro _, the two syllables brimming with desire and something more._

_Unconsciously, he tilted his head up to taste Kuroo’s lips. His eyes were closed, but he was almost sure he felt Kuroo lean in closer too. His fingers trembled in anticipation. What should he do with his hands?_

_He felt the softness of Kuroo’s lips for less than a second before he was roughly shoved away. His eyes opened in shock. Were the hands that pushed him really attached to Kuroo? Kuroo, his confident, sometimes cocky best friend who used to direct his most tender gazes only at Kenma?_

_When his eyes met Kuroo’s, he knew he would never be able to forget the other man’s expression. Or the words that came out his mouth._

_Kuroo’s hand was clamped over his mouth, his eyes widened in horror. His eyes were glued to the floor for an unbearably long moment, but he eventually glanced up at Kenma and his hand dropped to his side. Kenma couldn’t help but flinch at the expressions painted on Kuroo’s face. His eyes were full of fear. Kenma wasn’t able to process it at that moment, but later, holed up in his room, he recalled the way Kuroo’s hand trembled as he let it fall from his mouth. More than fear, he recognized the betrayal and disgust in the way Kuroo’s upper lip curled, almost in a sneer._

_Kenma recognized Kuroo’s disgusted expressions well. He remembered how Kuroo made a similar expression when he was 13 and Kenma made him eat natto. Even now, he could still remember the way Kuroo dramatically downed his glass of water and swore he would never eat it again. He never thought he would see that expression directed at him. The realization knocked the wind out of him, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe._

_Oblivious to the hurt expression on Kenma’s face, Kuroo flung himself back and slammed into the door. “I’m not gay,” he shot out. “I don’t know what you thought, but I’m not gay. I’m normal.” With that, he threw open the door and ran out._

_Standing in the middle of Kuroo’s room, Kenma felt as if he’d been slapped across the face. The words_ “I’m not gay, I’m normal” _played in a loop in his mind, and he couldn’t shut it off. He couldn’t remember how long he stood in Kuroo’s room. But by the time Kuroo came back hours later, Kenma was already in his own room and Shouyou was making an emergency visit to see him._

_He spent the rest of the weekend in his dorm, drowning his thoughts in video games and apple pie. Shouyou supported him the best he could when he arrived, bringing snacks and a video of his latest volleyball game. Kenma supposed he felt guilty for giving Kenma advice that turned out to be so inaccurate. He had vague recollections of greeting Shouyou at his door, wrapped in a blanket with puffy eyes from crying._

_Shouyou stayed until Wednesday, and Kenma appreciated that he missed school in order to make sure he was okay. He wasn’t exactly okay, but Shouyou was going back to classes and he supposed he needed to do the same._

_Kuroo texted him the morning after the party, apologizing and saying he didn’t mean it the way it came out. He asked if Kenma was free to hang out Wednesday, which was the first time Kuroo initiated contact since Kenma arrived in his city. Kenma ignored his texts for a week. He wasn’t trying to be spiteful, but every time he thought of Kuroo, words and images from that night floated back to him._

_Once he finally responded to Kuroo’s texts, he kept it contained to small talk. He never responded to the idea of hanging out, and Kuroo stopped asking. Kenma didn’t know what to do. A giant tear was created in the fabric of their relationship, but neither of them were very skilled at sewing._

_Somehow, Kuroo asked him to hang out one day after two months of not seeing each other, and Kenma agreed. It was the first stitch to repairing their friendship; it didn’t fix anything, but it was a step._

* * *

Which led them to now, where Kenma was chilling in Kuroo’s apartment by himself and trying to pretend he didn’t feel weird about it. 

Once they started hanging out, Kenma created rules to protect them (rather, himself). As long as he followed these rules, they could be friends again. As long as he was Kuroo’s friend, that was all he needed. These rules were carefully crafted to keep their friendship as stable as possible and not scare Kuroo away.

Rule 1: Never drink around Kuroo. Even one drink can turn into more (especially when Bokuto’s around), so avoid it altogether.

Rule 2: Don’t bring up that incident at That Party last year. Don’t even allude to it. Because it never happened.

Rule 3: Keep physical contact to a minimum. Hugs are only allowed at graduations, weddings, and funerals.

These rules were designed to protect them both, and they were not to be broken. For the most part, Kenma strictly adhered to the rules. Well, except Rule 3. 

It wasn’t even Kenma’s fault that Rule 3 was always getting broken. Even though Kuroo was the one who rejected him, it was Kuroo’s fingers that lingered for a moment too long when they passed the bag of chips back and forth. It was Kuroo who sat entirely too close to Kenma on the couch, when there was a whole cushion and a half that was left unused. It was Kuroo who brushed Kenma’s hair out of his face when it fell into his eyes.

Kenma didn’t know why Kuroo persisted in doing these things, especially if he disgusted Kuroo that much. But Kuroo didn’t seem disgusted around Kenma, not after That Party. The tender smiles that were only reserved for Kenma sometimes came out, but not with the same frequency they used to.

Kenma’s train of thought was interrupted by a _snap_. Looking down at the controller, he saw that the joystick was lying in his thumb’s grip, separate from the controller. He paled. 

Sure, he might have been using more strength than usual because he was so preoccupied, but that shouldn’t have been enough to break it. It was an old controller and it was bound to break eventually. It wasn’t really his fault. Still, he made a mental note to replace it the next time he came over.

In the meantime, there must be a spare around somewhere. Didn’t Kuroo and Bokuto ever play games together? He looked on the TV stand first, searching through the drawers. No spare controller. 

They had a shelf set up in the living room with some games and books on it, but there was no controller there either. Kenma wandered out of the living room to face the two closed bedroom doors.

Bokuto’s room was obviously off-limits, so that left Kuroo’s. Kuroo probably had one lying in his room somewhere. He slowly opened the door, ignoring the twist of his gut. Too late, he realized this was the first time he’d been inside since That Party. It was still set up the same, much to Kenma’s displeasure.

Taking a quick survey of the room, he ruled out the desk and Kuroo’s drawers. Under the bed was unlikely. That left the closet. There was a good chance Kuroo would stash a spare controller there, now that he thought about it. 

Upon inspection, Kuroo’s closet was a disaster. There could have been 50 controllers stashed inside, and he wouldn’t be able to find a single one. Still, he searched slowly, careful not to disturb the items that were balanced precariously on top of one another. His hand brushed against a simple silver shoebox sitting on the top shelf. Of course he wasn’t going to find a controller in a shoebox, but he pulled it down anyway. 

To his surprise, there wasn’t much dust on the lid. He lifted the lid carefully, finding a stash of photos and previous assignments Kuroo did well on. It obviously wasn’t his business, not anymore, but Kenma found himself looking through the photos anyway. Some of them were Kuroo with his family, some of them were pictures from his childhood, and many featured the Nekoma volleyball team. Kenma guessed roughly 80% of these photos included him, and his stomach flipped at the thought. 

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly at the photos. There was one in particular he didn’t remember being taken, when he and Kuroo were kids. Little Kuroo was grinning at the camera, one arm slung over Kenma’s shoulders and the other holding a volleyball. Little Kenma was grinning just as hard, a sight that tugged at his heart. He hardly ever smiled like that, especially not in photos. What had made him grin like that? Reluctantly, he put that photo back along with the others. 

He was just about to close the shoebox and give up his search when a strange square envelope caught his attention. It was buried underneath all the photos, as if they weren’t meant to be found. When he touched the envelope, a strong sensation engulfed him that he shouldn’t look. That if he looked at this, there was no going back. 

Well, now he knew how Pandora felt. Despite all the warnings, he had to know what the envelope contained. He ran his finger along the flap. It wasn’t sealed. Before he chickened out, Kenma opened the envelope and took out the contents. They were Polaroids.

Kuroo was sucking some old guy’s dick.

Kenma forgot how to breathe for a second. As much as he wanted to run, he kept his eyes trained on the picture.

No, there was no way that was _Kuroo_. Kuroo wouldn’t. But as Kenma forced himself to keep looking, he knew it couldn’t be anybody else. The familiar bedhead, the curve of his nose … It was the same figure he had spent so much of his life beside.

As if possessed, Kenma flipped to the next picture. In this one, Kuroo was dressed in just his boxers, giving another old guy a lap dance. Another pair of hands grabbed onto his waist, the body out of frame. 

Flip. A close-up of Kuroo’s face, covered in cum. A hand is gripping his hair tightly.

Flip. Kuroo sitting in one old guy’s lap, leaning over to suck another old guy’s dick. The first man has his hand on the back of Kuroo’s neck, holding him down.

In every photo, Kuroo’s eyes were glazed over (in one or two photos, the men were placing pills in Kuroo’s mouth). Kuroo’s expression was flat, as if he was watching it happen to somebody else. 

He was physically bigger than most of the men who were passing him around like a toy, Kenma noticed. Even with all that height and muscle, the older men seemed to wield all the power and control. 

Kenma threw the photos as if they were on fire. He only looked at the picture for a second, but already he felt bile rise up in his throat. He gagged on it. Trying to take in gulps of air, he only gagged harder. His heart rate sped up, and he felt like running away. But his body wouldn’t move. Was this what having a panic attack was like? 

He collapsed onto the floor in front of Kuroo’s closet, trying to breathe. The harder he tried, the less air he seemed to take in. His entire body trembled, and he hugged his knees close to his chest. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, his breathing finally became steady. He reached for his phone, his eyes widening in panic at the time. Kuroo would be home any minute. But he couldn’t face him right now, not after what he saw.

He carefully placed the Polaroids back into the envelope and in the exact spot he pulled them from the shoebox, then put the shoebox exactly where he took it from. Deciding it was too risky to stay and clean up his game in the living room, he hastily threw on his jacket and shoes before leaving the apartment and speeding down the stairs. 

Kenma sent a quick text of explanation to Kuroo. _Just remembered I have a paper due tomorrow. Sorry._ Reading it over, he sent another one. _I accidentally broke your controller. I’ll bring you a new one when I come over next time._

Once the cool air hit Kenma’s skin, some of the jumbled thoughts in his mind cleared. Feeling pain on his right hand, he looked down to see crescent shaped marks etched in his palm, dark purple and angry. 

As if a dam was lifted, he was suddenly able to realize the anger he was feeling. All he wanted to do was march back up to Kuroo’s apartment and wrap him in a tight hug, demanding the names of the men who hurt him. Nobody hurt Kuroo and got away with it.

Of course, there were a million reasons he couldn’t do that right now. Kenma forced himself to steady his breathing and think. _Remember the rules_ , he told himself. 

In every game, the first rule was to gather intel before you attack, whenever possible. If he were to gather intel on Kuroo, who would he go to?

Luckily for him, the answer to that was pretty easy. He sent off another text before slipping his phone into his jacket pocket and waiting for a response. 

_Can we meet at the coffee shop near your apartment? I need to talk to you._


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice,” Kenma addressed the grey-haired man sitting across from him. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Bokuto grinned. “I was on my way home anyway,” he said, bending his head down to look at the menu. 

Kenma took in his surroundings, trying to build up the courage to ask what he needed to ask. He had been to this coffee shop a few times before to study with Kuroo, and he enjoyed the low-key atmosphere. Of course, it was hard for any atmosphere to be low-key when Bokuto was around. Bokuto let out a loud “Hmmm” as he surveyed each menu option.

“Should we get dessert? I heard the apple pie here is really good,” Bokuto said. 

Remembering the apple pie Kuroo was bringing back for him, Kenma’s stomach did little flips. “I’m not that hungry. I think I’ll get iced tea,” he responded quietly. 

“Okay,” Bokuto answered, closing the menu. “So what did you want to talk about? Did you have a fight with Kuroo?”

Kenma averted his eyes. “Not exactly. How’s the team going? You have a game coming up next weekend, right?”

Bokuto quirked his brow at Kenma’s sudden subject change, but he let it slide. Until the drinks arrived at their table, he happily talked Kenma’s ear off about the team. Kenma was barely listening, unless Kuroo was mentioned. Even though he didn’t need more sugar in his iced tea, he kept picking up the sugar packets and playing with them. 

Once Bokuto stopped talking, Kenma realized his time was up. He took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. “Is there … something that happened in Kuro’s first year?” he asked, fiddling with the sugar packet in his hands. He looked straight at Bokuto as he spoke, and Bokuto swallowed and averted his eyes.

A flash of alarm crossed Bokuto’s face. “Something that happened?” he echoed, his voice sounding hollow. “Uh, well, he got pretty deep into partying. But who doesn’t in their first year? And he got homesick, so it was hard for him to reach out to you, y’know? Other than that, things were normal, I guess,” he finished with a laugh, just as hollow as his voice. 

Kenma narrowed his eyes. From Bokuto’s frantic expression and his newfound inability to look Kenma in the eye, it was obvious he knew more than he was willing to say. It seemed like Bokuto  _ wanted  _ to tell Kenma, but he didn’t want to betray Kuroo. And no matter how much he liked Kenma, he was never going to sell out his bro like that.

Kenma sighed and let out a deep breath. He didn’t want to pull this card out so soon, not until he got more details. But he didn’t have a choice. 

“I found pictures,” he admitted, almost tearing the sugar packet in half. “In Kuro’s closet. Kuro was with … various men.” The last two words burned like acid on Kenma’s tongue, and he nearly spit them out in his hurry to be rid of them. “Do you know anything about that?”

From the way Bokuto’s eyes widened in recognition, Kenma had his answer. Bokuto was in mid-sip when Kenma asked the question, and Kenma noted how he took much longer than necessary to lower the mug from his mouth.

“How … How much did you see?”

“Blowjobs, mostly,” Kenma deadpanned. Bokuto spluttered on his drink, and Kenma felt a pang in his chest. It wasn’t like he wanted to say it out loud, but he needed Bokuto to see that he didn’t need to hide the truth anymore. 

A flush spread across Bokuto’s cheeks, and he looked away again. “Wha-? How did you even  _ find _ -”

“Please,” Kenma said, cutting him off. He never begged, especially not to Bokuto. But he needed to find out what happened. If he could pinpoint the moment everything started to fall apart, then maybe he could stitch it back together.

His plea was clearly having an affect on the man across from him. The two of them stared across the table at each other, neither moving or backing down. 

Finally, Bokuto let out a long, weary sigh. He pushed aside his mug and placed his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers. “Okay, so a lot of stuff happened in our first year,” he amended. “And a bunch of it is my fault. I fucked up, and I did things I wish I could take back.”

“Your fault?” Kenma slipped out, surprised. 

“I guess I should just start at the beginning,” Bokuto said, scratching the back of his neck. “When we first got to university, we were so stoked to be roommates. All of a sudden we were away from home and had so much freedom … I think we partied every single weekend our first semester.” A small smile spread across his face at the memory. “But all that partying got expensive super quick. We were getting low on money, and neither of us had jobs. So we started looking for a part-time gig to keep us eating … And well, partying, I guess,” he continued, letting out an awkward chuckle. 

“For some reason, we weren’t finding anything. I was feeling pretty down until this guy from my class recommended this host club. He made it sound so freaking amazing. The money was going to be crazy, especially for big athletes like us. And all we had to do was look good and flirt with women. When I got home, I told Kuroo about it and we decided to introduce ourselves at the club the next day.” 

Kenma’s eye twitched. His face must have looked completely unimpressed at Bokuto’s reasoning, because Bokuto started waving his hands frantically. “No, no, it wasn’t like what you were thinking! It was a super professional club. Everything was above board. Hosts were strictly forbidden from ‘exchanging favors’ with clients. Sure, some guys probably did, but …” He trailed off awkwardly, scratching his nose and staunchly avoiding looking in Kenma’s direction. “But me and Kuroo didn’t. I would’ve known. We went home together after every shift.”

He stopped speaking then, and Kenma unconsciously leaned on the table, waiting to hear what happened next. But Bokuto didn’t continue his story. After a few moments of silence, he lost his patience. “If everything was so great at the host club, what changed?” he demanded. At least to Kenma it was a demand, but with his soft voice, it came out more as a curious question. 

“I don’t really know what changed,” Bokuto answered, giving him a noncommittal shrug. “As far as I knew, everything was great. We were making good money, the volleyball team was kicking ass. Sure, our grades weren’t the best, but they were good enough to stay on the team. We were idiots, but we knew when it was time to buckle down and get to work. Looking back, it seems stupid, but at the time … It was a really great time of my life. Maybe it was for Kuroo too.” A wistful look crossed over his face, and he appeared to be staring at something past Kenma for a moment. 

When the moment passed, Bokuto blinked and continued his story. “But Kuroo just became a completely different person one day. Not long after the second semester started, he quit the host club without telling me, and he started skipping class like crazy. And he would stay out late at night. When I asked about it, all he would say is that he found a new job. I ignored it for a while. I thought Kuroo would talk to me when he was ready. I guess that was another fuck up, ‘cause he only got worse from there.”

“Worse how?” Kenma asked, gripping the edge of the table. 

“Well, the first thing that ticked me off that something was definitely not right came after I started dating Akaashi. That was when I quit the host club too, so I had more spare time. Kaashi would visit on the weekends, and Kuroo would always stay away. Even when we invited him out to eat, he would just wave us off. We thought he was just giving us space ‘cause we were a new couple. But then he started making these weird little comments that were pretty … Ahhh, what do I call it? Homophobic, I guess.”

“I ignored those too, thinking I was misunderstanding him. But we were all hanging out together one day. It must have been a weekend, since Kaashi was there. And then Kuroo says out of nowhere, and I mean out of fucking nowhere, that men being together is a waste of time and we should be with women instead. I lost my shit, ‘cause he was saying that shit when Kaashi was right there. And we yelled and probably pushed each other around a bit, and Kaashi had to stop us. That was our first actual fight.” Bokuto relayed this information with a shaky voice, his jaw clenched. He gripped his mug until his knuckles turned white, and Kenma realized how that fight was still able to draw out such raw emotions in Bokuto. 

“I should’ve known that something was seriously off. I mean, this is the guy who encouraged me to ask out Akaashi back in high school. And he always talked abou-” Bokuto’s eyes widened as he glanced up at Kenma, as if he momentarily forgot who he was talking to. “I mean, he just wasn’t a guy who seemed homophobic, y’know?”

Kenma thought back to That Party. The words  _ I’m not gay, I’m normal _ hit him full force, and he almost flinched. It hurt as bad as the first time Kuroo threw them at him. He could only nod weakly at Bokuto. 

“I think he stopped going to class at all,” Bokuto mused, thinking back. “I had to drag him out of bed so he got to his midterms on time. I was super pissed at him during that whole thing, and we pretty much stopped talking to each other. But I didn’t want him to fail out of school, so I did what I could. He was just totally out of control.

“One day I caught him doing molly in our bathroom. If it was before going out to a party or something, that would be one thing, but … He was taking drugs before class. That’s when I got really fucking scared. I flushed the rest of the drugs, and he just about lost his damn mind. I demanded he tell me where he’s been going at night, but of course he didn’t.” Bokuto sighed and mindlessly traced the rim of the mug with his finger. “I was all out of options.”

Not realizing he had been holding his breath while Bokuto talked, Kenma suddenly let out a puff of air. “Then what happened?” he demanded.

Bokuto brightened a little. “Everything seemed hopeless until I talked to Kaashi. Then we came up with a plan. I snooped around in Kuroo’s room when he was out one night, and I found some sort of host card in his desk. But it didn’t look as professional as the host cards we used to hand out when we were hosts. It was pretty sketchy. Kaashi thought so too. With a bit more sleuthing, we found out that’s where he worked.

“I wanted to bust the doors down immediately, but Kaashi said we should gather intel first. It felt like a spy mission!” His voice raised excitedly, and a sparkle glimmered in his eye before he remembered the gravity of the situation. “It’s a good thing we held off, ‘cause Kaashi found out some good stuff. It turned out this place was hiring guys who were underage. And the stuff that was going on there  _ definitely  _ wasn’t legal,” he muttered, a dark shadow crossing over his face. 

At the implication of his words, Kenma nearly knocked his iced tea over. His heart raced as his brain conjured up images of all the illegal things Kuroo had been up to. “The place from the pictures,” he let out without thinking.

Bokuto gave him a curt nod. “The place from the pictures,” he repeated. “Once we got all the information we needed, we came up with a plan and Kaashi let me bust the doors down. So we got there, burst past the reception area, and we were able to act intimidating enough for Kaashi to snap a quick pic of what was going on. It was more of what you saw in the pictures already, but it was pretty shocking seeing it for the first time.”

He scratched his chin absently as he tried to remember the details. “So I made some threats, and Kaashi made some threats on the more legal side of things. We were able to get the place shut down for the night. We were only really trying to get Kuroo out of there, anyway. I thought he was gonna fight us every step of the way, since that’s all he did before. But he didn’t really say much of anything. He said he didn’t want us to see him like that, but I just told him we had to get him out of there, and that’s what every friend would do. I used my muscle and got the pictures back so Kuroo could do what he wanted with them,” he announced, flexing his bicep.

Even though he supposed the action was meant to lighten the mood, Kenma shuddered at the image of Bokuto “using his muscle” to get what he wanted. He could only imagine the damage Bokuto could do to a person if he was motivated enough.

“But we never really talked about it after that night,” Bokuto continued, a far away look in his eyes. “I told him we were here for him if he ever wanted to talk about it, but I guess he probably wouldn’t go to me anyway. You would be the person he’d let himself be vulnerable with, more than any of us.”

Fiddling with his fingers, Kenma ducked his face behind his hair. “Not anymore,” he whispered. “He hasn’t talked to me about anything actually important since I was still in high school. We just don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.” 

Bokuto shrugged. “It might be worth it to give it a try. You don’t have to tell him you know about the pictures. Just let him know you’re here for him no matter what.”

Once he could think of a delicate way to broach the topic, he would. Until then … “Could you tell me what that place was called?” Kenma asked. But he already knew the answer. 

Bokuto just laughed. “No way! I don’t even wanna know what you would do if you got your hands on those guys!”

Looking down at his fingers, Kenma sighed. “When I think about what they did to Kuro, I just feel so helpless,” he muttered. 

“I don’t blame ya there,” Bokuto grunted in agreement. “Those guys fucked him up for sure. But when I think about how things went down, I don’t think they were the only ones to fuck him up,” he said slowly. 

A shiver went down Kenma’s spine. “What do you mean?” he whispered. 

“Well, he didn’t get involved with those guys until after he started skipping class and avoiding me. Makes me think something else happened. Something he can’t talk about.”

Something worse than blowing sleazy old guys? Kenma shuddered at the thought. Leaving money on the table, he stood up. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to me about this,” he said stiffly. “I left enough for both of us. See you.”

“See you later!” Bokuto called. 

As he left the coffee shop, a sick feeling rolled around in his gut. He was glad he got answers for the pictures, but now anxiety was gnawing at him that there was more to the story. 

He just hoped he could keep a straight face when he saw Kuroo next. 

* * *

“What’s on your mind?”

Kenma clenched his jaw as his character died yet again. He couldn’t exactly tell Kuroo  _ Oh nothing much, except two weeks ago I found out you used to suck off old men for money. Anyway, what’s new with you? _

“Nothing really,” he mumbled instead. “It’s a new game, and I haven’t figured out how everything works yet.”

Kuroo’s eyebrow lifted in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you didn’t notice how the zombies move in a zig zag right before they’re about to attack? And to think you were Nekoma’s brain,” he tutted in mock shame, shaking his head.

The tips of Kenma’s ears turned pink. He’d missed this, the easy banter between them. It was only slowly starting to return now, after almost a full year of awkward silences and stilted small talk. Why did he have to go and find those pictures?

He didn’t know what to do. The selfish part of him wanted to ease his burden and tell Kuroo, but the other part wanted to spare Kuroo pain and keep it a secret forever. But, the selfish part argued, wouldn’t it be better for Kuroo to know he has somebody to talk to about this?

The worst part of it was that he still didn’t know what to make of any of it. Questions whirled around in his head every time he thought about it, increasingly growing louder. Did the men trick Kuroo into joining their club? If not, why did Kuroo work there? Were the things that happened consensual? Did that mean Kuroo was gay, or maybe bisexual? Or did he come to hate gay men because of his horrible experiences at the club? 

And where did all of this leave Kenma?

“I should go now,” Kenma announced abruptly, standing up so fast his head spun. He threw the controller on the couch, not bothering to turn the game off. He didn’t want to think about all of this, and being in Kuroo’s presence just made him  _ think _ . The endless questions found no home in his brain and just spun around in circles, like the tires of a racecar that sped off the track and crashed. “I-I have a paper due on Monday. I should get started on it.”

“Awww, c’mon, it’s only 2 PM! At least stay until you beat this level,” Kuroo whined, grabbing Kenma’s sleeve.

Kenma shook him off, with no real power behind the movement. “I can’t concentrate right now,” he ground out. “I keep thinking about the paper I haven’t even started.”

“Just beat this one little level, and you’re free to go. Wait, is this the game to finally bring you down?” Kuroo taunted, a smirk on his lips. Kenma straightened up at the sound of a challenge, and Kuroo’s smirk grew bigger. “Come on, it’ll be easy. I’ll even help you.”

“How can you he- Ahh!” Kenma’s words were cut off by Kuroo grabbing onto his sleeve again and pulling him into his lap. “ _ This _ is supposed to help me beat this level?” he protested. He was about to try to get up and leave, but Kuroo’s scent engulfed his senses. For a moment, he basked in the smell of Kuroo’s body wash and the faint whiff of sweat from his volleyball practice in the morning.

During his hesitation, Kuroo wrapped his arms around Kenma to secure him in place and handed the controller back to him. Sulking, Kenma took the controller and pressed Play.

“I’ll tell you when to attack, so just focus on moving and dodging. Trust me,” Kuroo whispered, his breath tickling his ear. A shiver ran through Kenma, and he had to use all his willpower to keep his focus on the game. Normally, he would find it ridiculous that Kuroo was giving him gaming directions. But if it meant he could stay in Kuroo’s arms even just for a few minutes, he supposed it was worth the hassle. 

Kenma character dodged the attacks effortlessly. Somehow, Kuroo’s scent and warmth helped Kenma focus and relaxed his jittery fingers. Although he was more than capable of defeating this game by himself, it  _ was  _ nice not to have to worry about attacking. It gave him a chance to scope out the area and find Deluxe Safety Goggles in a treasure chest, one of the rarest items in the game. 

“Now,” Kuroo whispered, pressing against Kenma’s back. Kenma did as he was told and landed a direct hit on the zombie leader. His heart started beating loudly in his chest; he wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of the attack or Kuroo’s scent infiltrating his nostrils.

They landed a few more attacks on the zombie leader, but then more zombies started appearing out of nowhere. The distraction allowed the zombie leader to land an attack on Kenma’s character. With his health bar drastically lowered, the screen went blurry for a moment, making it even harder for Kenma to attack or dodge. 

Before he could decide on the best plan forward, Kuroo’s hands moved to lie on top of Kenma’s. Kenma blinked in surprise. “It’ll be easier this way. I’ll attack, you dodge,” he told Kenma. With Kuroo’s hands pressed against Kenma’s, they managed to defeat the zombie army. Now only the zombie leader was left. 

Kenma was sure his heart was thudding loud enough for the entire apartment to hear. He could feel his face getting hot, and he could only hope Kuroo didn’t notice. Every time Kuroo attacked, his thumb pressed Kenma’s into the button. Did Kuroo really think this is how straight guys played video games? 

Kuroo’s hands were steady, and his gaze remained locked on the screen. They fought the zombie leader using their divide and conquer strategy. Kenma’s heart rate sped up as he realized how low the health bar was getting. One or two more hits, and he was done for. 

The zombie raised his club and aimed it towards Kenma’s character. Kenma counted down the beats and jumped just as the club came crashing down on the stone tile. Mid-jump, Kuroo mashed the attack button. The zombie raised his club again, and Kenma got in stance to dodge it. Just then, Kuroo got another direct hit in. The zombie let out a loud groan and collapsed, breaking the tiles underneath.

His heart still thudding in his ears, Kenma turned to Kuroo with a look of awe. “That was close,” he breathed. “I thought we were going to die for sure.”

“Me too,” Kuroo laughed. “We make a pretty incredible team.” 

They laughed, and Kenma realized how much fun it was. Sure, the game was okay, but he knew he would never have had that much fun playing it by himself. Once their laughter died down, he suddenly remembered where he was.

Jumping up in a hurry, Kenma handed Kuroo the controller without looking at him. “Okay, now I really need to go write my paper,” he muttered. Could Kuroo see his blush?

When Kenma left his lap, Kuroo blinked as if waking up from a trance. “Sure, I’ll walk you to the door,” he replied, giving his head a shake. 

Kuroo leaned against the wall and watched Kenma put his shoes and jacket on. “Hey, one of my classmates invited me to a goukon. They’re still one guy short, so how about you come along? My classmate has reeealllyyy cute friends,” Kuroo told him, winking.

Kenma zipped up his jacket and tried to ignore the pang in his heart. This wasn’t a surprise. Every time Kuroo pulled Kenma in for a prolonged hug, or let his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary when their hands accidentally brushed, he would always take ten steps back and talk about how they should get girlfriends. “I think I’ll pass,” he replied quietly. 

At that moment, it hit him. As long as Kuroo believed Kenma had no idea about the pictures, their relationship would always be like this. Stagnant and suffocating. They would always dance around each other, wanting to get closer but never being able to bridge that gap. Kenma balled his hands into fists. Yes, he decided. This was the only way. 

“Kuro, I found the pictures,” Kenma said before he could stop himself. “In your closet.” Kuroo’s eyes widened in horror, and he stood up straighter. “I’m sorry. But if you ever wanted to talk about it, you could. With me. Only if you wanted to.” The words came out stilted, and Kenma inwardly cringed. 

“What pictures? I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Kuroo laughed, but the noise was empty and hollow. Kenma would give anything for his ugly hyena laugh right then. 

Summoning all of his strength, Kenma looked up to face Kuroo. “The ones with you and the … The men,” he stuttered. 

A look of panic flashed across Kuroo’s face, before he composed himself. “What the fuck were you doing in my closet?” he demanded.

Kenma flinched at the harsh tone of his voice. “I was looking to see if you had a spare controller …” he trailed off, knowing how flimsy his reasoning sounded.

“And you thought you would find it in a shoebox?” Kuroo spit out. “Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, raking his hand across his face.

“Kuro,  _ I’m sorry, _ ” Kenma said desperately. “I know I shouldn’t have snooped. But there’s been something going on with you for a long time now, and I just want to help you,” he continued, grasping Kuroo’s sleeve.

Kuroo slapped his hand away. “I don’t need help!” he shouted. His voice lowered to a whisper, and Kenma strained to hear. “Of all people, I never wanted  _ you  _ to find out.”

“I don’t see you any differently. You’re still my best friend,” Kenma pleaded.

“How could you  _ not _ ?” Kuroo snapped. He put his head in his hands and emitted a low noise. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t do any of this right now,” he muttered to himself. After a moment, he lifted his head from his hands and gave Kenma a blank stare. “You should leave now,” he told him, his tone as flat as his expression. 

Despite himself, Kenma felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes. What if Kuroo left again? He wouldn’t be able to bear it. “I get that you don’t want to see me right now,” he said, his voice shaky. “And that’s okay. But, Kuro … I’m here. Whether it’s tomorrow or five years from now, I’m here. Please don’t forget that.”

Kuroo stepped forward and opened the door for Kenma. His dark expression left no room for argument. “Maybe in five years I’ll give you a call,” he responded. The second Kenma was out the door, he slammed it shut. 

Once he was safely alone in the apartment, Kuroo leaned against the door and put his head back in his hands. 

Fuck.  _ Fuck! _

He couldn’t deal with this shit right now. Everything was going so well, and then Kenma had to ruin it. He stormed to his room, slamming his bedroom door as well. 

He went to his dresser, and opened the second drawer on the right. It had been a while since he went looking for it, but this time he needed it. Rooting around under his shirts, his hand hit a small plastic bottle. He pulled it out eagerly. 

Clear liquid sloshed around the bottle. Kuroo examined it. It was about the three quarters full. He didn’t need to be too careful. Without hesitation, he unscrewed the cap and took a giant swig. He shuddered as the liquid traveled down his throat.

If he blacked out, maybe he wouldn’t have nightmares tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't blink, or you'll miss the speck of fluff I left in this chapter! It was hard for me to write a character like Bokuto when he's talking about such a heavy subject matter. I tried to make his cheerful personality shine through. 
> 
> Warning: Next chapter will be very dark. I will be leaving a warning at the beginning of chapter 3 when I publish it, so if you are sensitive to the subject material, please proceed with caution.
> 
> I live for kudos and comments, so if you're liking this story, please let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome to my second KuroKen fic! I think this one is going to be decently long, but we'll see.
> 
> If you couldn't tell by the tags and warning, this story is going to get dark. This story is not going to be nice to Kuroo, but his friends will be. 
> 
> Please enjoy!


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